Nocte et Omnes Alios
by Nomme de Plume
Summary: Easter egg to The Good Brother. Lemony goodness, one-shot. SanSan sans dialogue.


He looked down at her from his great height and felt his mouth twitch. She was looking at the Septon before them, her breath steaming in the winter night. The moon swung high over the city, casting silver-white light over the otherwise-empty godswood. It pooled in the smooth lines of her face, spilling onto her shoulders and delicate collarbones. She looked like a god come to life. _And after tonight, she's mine._  
>He knew this wasn't the ceremony she'd always dreamed of; none of the pomp, no cheering crowds, no dancing. Bleeding hells, her family wasn't even here. A few years ago he knew she would be pouting, upset and acting like the princess she almost was. But tonight, there was no sign of sadness or regret on her fine features. She glanced up at him, her eyes gleaming starlight. Her lips curved upwards in a soft smile he knew well. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and rested her head on his shoulder as the Septon spoke. When he inhaled he could smell the soap she used on her hair - something flowery and sweet.<p>

_Gods be damned, listen to yourself. You sound like Loras Tyrell. Come morning you're taking her to a home you haven't seen in twenty years and it was shit then. Two decades of Gregor and you'll be lucky if it's still standing. She deserves better. She deserves to be taken to her home and to have it rebuilt, and to have her family back. She should have someone gentle, not some scarred beast who can't hold a conversation without wanting to kill someone. _

And yet, she'd chosen him. She'd crossed the small room at the Quiet Isle, had kissed him and had let him take her. Come morning she'd let him do it again, and every night after. She'd _enjoyed_ it, and she hadn't left his side since.

His hands felt abnormally large and cumbersome as he draped a new cloak over her shoulders. He had no idea where the Queen had gotten it and hadn't thought to ask. It bore his colors, his sigil and that was all that mattered. She was smiling up at him again as they both recited ancient vows before an ancient weirwood. When the time came she stood on her tiptoes and pulled his face to hers, her lips as light as snow. He pulled her closer, circling her thin frame and deepening the kiss. By the time they parted the Septon had left, leaving nothing but a trial of footprints to declare he had even been there in the first place.

The room they'd been given at the Red Keep was, thankfully, not the one she'd stayed in during her last visit. It was quiet when he shut the door behind them and for a moment he just looked at her. There was a fire in the fireplace, and the flames glinted off her red hair and played off her ivory skin. She didn't want to take off the cloak, he could tell, but she didn't object when he cupped her face in his rough hands and brought it to his. In the breath before their lips met she smiled.

He pulled away a minute later. Her fingers danced at the laces to his tunic as he again voiced his disbelief that she actually wanted this, wanted him, for the rest of her life. She shushed him, slipping her cold, birdlike hands under his shirt and running them over his stomach. He pulled it off and soon enough, her cloak and simple white dress followed. She stood before him in a thin shift and with none of the shyness she had when she came to him weeks before. Her head was held high, her eyes clear and he saw desire written in them. He slid a hand around her waist and drew him hard against her. When he kissed her throat, her breath was soft against his scars, her fingers grasping at his back. She whimpered his name and he took her lips gently. Her heart was pounding against his own as he lowered her to their bed. She wiggled impatiently, working her shift up her slender white thighs and over the curve of her hips. The sight of her naked and stretched out before him made his throat go dry.

Growing impatient himself, he pulled it off her and discarded it, along with what remained of his clothes. She tangled her fingers in his hair, her kiss sweet and gently demanding. When she loosened a hand, slid it down his body and cupped his hardness, it nearly unmanned him. He groaned her name, his head dropping to the curve of her neck. Bracing himself on his elbows, he tried to keep himself from spilling into her hand while she stroked him. It was hard - in the weeks they'd been intimate she had grown to know what his body liked.

Suddenly he could bear it no more. He rolled with her, holding her hips steady as she found herself astride him. He cocked an eyebrow as she knelt over him, their bodies barely touching. His grip on her hips tightened as he pushed into her, and his grin grew as her eyes fluttered. His hand slid up her stomach, finding her breasts and teasing first one nipple, then the other. She purred as she rode him, pushing his hand down to where they were joined. He pulled her down, pinning her beneath him as their coupling grew more and more urgent. Her sighs and moans grew to mewling, keening cries and before long she was shuddering beneath him. Her body tightened around him as she came, pushing him past the limits of his control.

Hours later, she lay with her head against his chest, her arm draped across him. He idly ran his fingers up and down her spine, enjoying the little shivers that ran through her body. It may have taken years for them to finally come together, but this night and all others, she was his.

_A/N - Just a little blurb I had to get out of my head so I could keep working on _Undertow. _The title is Latin for 'This night and all others', I think. I don't know. I studied French. _


End file.
